


"Jack"

by RoseLittleWood



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseLittleWood/pseuds/RoseLittleWood





	1. Chapter 1

A red dress, right above her ankles. Lips, crimson, like blood. Red hair, shoulder length. He watched her walk down the narrow path. She looked perfect, though he couldn't draw her right, he couldn't ever draw her right. He would watch her every single night. He started watching the lady a month ago. He was so fond of her looks, he felt the need to follow her. He sat on a tree branch, watching her walk up the steps to her house. Her movements were so graceful. He felt the need to have her. He wanted her to be his. When the woman opened the door, a man that was not him stepped out greeting her with a peck on the lips. He saw them smile at each other lovingly, causing his stomach to turn. His blood boiled, and his hands formed fists. He would have his revenge.

* * *

The next night he had pinned the woman to the ground. Her perfect face was twisted up into a look of horror. Her mouth opened, ready to scream. Though he wouldn't let it happen. He covered her mouth and leaned in to whisper. "You would have made a lovely bride." He chuckled darkly as the woman squirmed. He pulled out his knife, grinning wickedly. The muffled cries from his victim made him lick his lips in delight. "Goodbye, Martha Manning." He cackled as he slit Martha's throat, enjoying the image of her blood spill from her throat. Her struggling body went limp, and her sparkling eyes went dull. He loved the dark feeling that surrounded him. He licked his knife clean, groaning from the delightful taste of her crimson, metallic liquid. He needed to sign his art, but how? He had the perfect idea. He cut her throat once more, watching the blood gush out. His eyes darkened, filling with hunger. He then lifted her dress and caressed her stomach. "We would of made the most beautiful children." He sighed heavily. It was as if he'd wasted a perfect meal. He drove his knife into her stomach, cutting all the way down to her naval. So much more blood, his eyes were almost black. He was in love with this. He reached in, grasping her left kidney and tore it from her body. Then, he tore out her uterus. "I'll take good care of these, Martha. Don't worry. At least you were good for something." He smirked, disappearing into the night.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She could never have children. That's what the doctor said. No children. She'd have nightmares about having children and then killing them. "No children..." She would lay in bed almost all day, wishing she could have children. She would cry, then scream, cry then scream. She felt so alone. She had a husband, though he was killed in a car accident. She had no family, and all her friends, were no longer her friends. She couldn't have children, that's why she lost her friends, because her friends could have children, and they did. They would rub it in her face each time they saw her. She would ignore their taunts, but when she'd get home, she couldn't hold back her cries. So, she cried everyday. That was her life.

* * *

"Bored." He grumbled to the ceiling. He was sitting backwards on the couch. Mumbling how bored he was to the ceiling. He slid to the floor, standing up. "Another." He would repeat that word everyday. Ever since the first, he couldn't help but feel the need to strike again. He wanted to see the blood spill, he wanted to hear his knife break the skin. He was so bored. He looked through his window, and what he saw, made him grin ear to ear. There was a woman. She wore a light pink dress that went past her ankles, and her lips were the color of a Ranunculus. So pink. It was almost red. He felt the dark feeling stir around in his chest. He was going to have fun again. What a thrill. He danced around his room, laughing like a mad man, though I suppose you'd call him one. He took out his drawing journal from under the bed, opening it to a fresh page. He inhaled deeply, practically smelling the blood of the lady in pink. He quickly began to draw her, though he just couldn't draw her right...

 

 


End file.
